


What We Lost Under Fire

by sellswordking



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sellswordking/pseuds/sellswordking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way that things were going after the crash, they were bound for a  break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Lost Under Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic about leg day, because I am a weak trash garbage monkey.

Leg day.

Why is it always fucking leg day? And why are they even training in the first place? They're not _real_ soldiers, they never were! They were just a group of assholes standing around in multiple box canyons until shit decided to blow up, _and_ they always survived when it did! Shit, they were practically fucking cockroaches at this point!

Tucker hefted himself up off the ground, his legs burning and ready to give out and his head about two seconds from exploding. This was fucking bullshit, and he knew he was about to snap.

“Done with your squats already?” Wash asked, silent as ever when he walked up.

“Speak of the asshole.” Tucker muttered. But today, that wasn't enough. Getting away with saying shit under his breath just wasn't cutting it anymore. “I’m done with training, Wash. I’m gonna go inside and chill.”

Wash blocked his path. “I don’t think so, soldier. You've still got a lot to do.”

Instead of backing down and starting to bitch like he normally would, Tucker shoved Wash out of his way.

“No, you don't understand. I’m fucking _done_ , I mean it this time. I don’t know why I was even taking orders from you in the first place!”

“Because I out-rank you, Tucker, I’m your commanding officer--”

“We’re not fucking soldiers! _You’re_ not even a soldier, you’re a fucking freelancer! We’re civilians in shitty colored armour, Wash, you need to get that through your head. What are you even training me for? Who is attacking us out here in the middle of fucking nowhere!?” Tucker had wheeled around and turned on Wash, and to his surprise, Wash was actually backing away. That didn’t stop him from yelling right back, though.

“Like it or not, Tucker, you are a soldier now, and soldiers have to be trained to deal with the dangers they face every single day. The fact that we’re not being attacked right this second means that we have time to make sure that when we _are_ in the line of fire, we’re ready.” Tucker could hear Wash trying to stay calm, but there was a crack to his voice that said he was just as tired of this conversation as Tucker was.

Well, _fuck that_.

They both needed to break, and Tucker wasn’t going to stop pushing until they had the chance to let off some steam.

“What fucking line of fire, dude?! The Freelancer Project is _done_ , no one is gonna come looking to attack us! Everyone who kicked our asses is dead!” Tucker didn’t miss the way that Wash flinched at the reminder, and it brought another question to mind. “And what the fuck do you even care anyway? We’re not your problem, you don’t even like us! So what does it matter that we suck? Shit, what would it even matter to you if Caboose and I just died tomorrow and--”

“I can’t lose you too!” Wash screamed at him, like really screamed for the first time. It made Tucker stop short and left him trying to process the implications. Wash just sighed, his shoulders slumping, and to Tucker’s surprise, he actually took his helmet off.

“You think that you’re the only one here who lost someone. Your friend abandoned you? Well, mine are all dead. Think about that for a minute, Tucker.” Wash had never sounded so . . . broken before. At least, not in front of Tucker. He realized that he had gotten exactly what he wanted, Wash had snapped, but this wasn’t what he was picturing. More yelling, maybe some threatening, like with Church. Wash just looked _exhausted_.

“That “project”? Those were all my _friends_ , men and women that were almost like family to me. How many times has Church come back to you after he died, Tucker? How long, really, have you had to live with the knowledge that you would never see him again before he came back and proved you wrong? Because some of us haven’t been that lucky. When I saw South again, she shot me in the back just to save her own ass. Then I learned she did the same thing to her brother, my best friend. I had to learn from an _AI_ that he died alone because of the one person he thought he _knew_ he could trust. And Carolina? She was consumed with revenge, she used me and what I went through to get to the Director. And just when she cleared her head of that, she left without a word.” Tucker couldn’t tell if Wash was on the verge of tears or about to shoot something.

Hearing him say all of this out loud was getting him pretty acquainted with the urge, if Tucker was honest with himself. Yeah, sure, he knew about this stuff, but he didn’t really _know_. Piecing it together was one thing, but Wash just looked so messed up over it, that alone was kinda getting what the guy was driving at.

“I know you understand what it’s like to be left behind, Tucker, but Church is going to come back to you. He _always_ comes back. But the people I let in never seem to. It was probably stupid of me, but you and Caboose are my friends. I _care_ about you both, and I _can’t_ watch you die too.” Wash took a deep breath, like he was trying to clear away everything he’d just put out between them, and put his helmet back on. They were both silent for a minute, with Wash trying to compose himself and Tucker just plain stunned.

“Now.” Wash said, breaking the moment. “Four laps. Then you can go inside and cool off.”

Tucker didn’t even think about arguing this time, he just started running. Honestly, it didn’t really matter if Wash told him to do laps, he probably would’ve run anyway, just to get some distance between himself and their conversation. It was just too much to deal with when all Tucker had been expecting were a few punches at most, and he wasn’t entirely ready to deal with the shit that had been dug up by that little show of trust and vulnerability.

Maybe tomorrow.

It was gonna be another fucking leg day, after all.

 


End file.
